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Like every time before, when you sat between his legs in this vanity, skirt rumpled around yourself, there was the initial wave of shyness. Excitement, embarrassment, and then you found his eyes in the mirror, and those feelings were multiplied tenfold.
Your hands were held up in Lucifer’s, displayed and proffered wide on either side like a doll. A testing tug of your arms against his had him tightening, grip very firm and unrelenting. He brought his face close to yours, cheek to yours and a pleasant rumble against your back as he spoke.
“You don’t see what I see when I look at this pretty girl?” he asked gently, the comforting feeling of him contrasted by the fact that, even after all this time, you still weren’t sure what he saw in you.
“No,” you said, eyes falling further upon the vanity. “I don’t understand what you see in me.”
Even just that admission took effort, made you feel so insignificant. It was a feeling that constantly chased you, insignificance, even before the King of Hell himself turned his gaze upon you with love.
“Can you look me in the eye and say that?” Lucifer asked sweetly.
But you couldn’t, because his eyes were scorching; even in your peripheral, his gaze was burning into you, a silent demand—plea, even—to please look at him.
You refused.
Deep down, despite how much you loved him, and he you, you still struggled to like yourself. To admire yourself.
“Let me show you what I see.”
That was the only warning you received before your wrists were bound in golden light, gossamer thin threads forcing you to keep your arms up and out for display while his hands moved with purpose over your breasts. A light gasp escaped your lips as he squeezed and massaged, your legs drawing closer as heat and wetness gathered. Sighing sweetly, Lucifer nuzzled his head into your neck, lidded eyes meeting yours in the mirror.
“Oh, I love your beautiful voice—your body, everything about you I just love, love, love. And I’m going to make you understand that.”
His kneading turned to deliberate pinching of your nipples, drawing out a sharp whimper, your back arching and wrists tugging against the solid restraints.
The sight of yourself in the mirror, your heated gaze, your body forced to arch back in a better angle for his hands as they pinched and kneaded and massaged your breasts through the thin cloth of your blouse, set you alight. You didn’t like looking at yourself—never favored the person who stared back at you in the mirror. Lucifer licked a stripe up your neck before taking one hand to tilt your head towards his so he could capture your mouth in a heated kiss, hands tangling among your tresses to keep you trapped against his mouth. The feel of his mouth on yours left you breathless, his tongue easily parting your soft lips to delve in, the hot fiery velvet of his forked tongue licking into your mouth and tangling with yours.
His ministrations cut short if only to unbutton your blouse, careful tugs of his claws before he wrenched the article open, exposing you to the warm air of the bedroom. You gasped into his mouth as his hot hand gripped you again, thumb rolling hard over your nipples, cupping you appreciatively like he aimed to worship your contours.
Not even an inch he parted from your lips to whisper, “So beautiful,” sounding so broken with lust that it sent a shudder through your body, legs clenching together as you grew hotter.
“Lu—” his name was cut short by his lips again, harder and rougher than before, moving against you so fervently it felt like he was trying to devour you whole. Your eyes slipped open just a tilt, finding your own gaze in the mirror for just a moment. And, in that instant, catching sight of Lucifer’s heated ruby eyes watching you from the corner as he held you fast against his kiss, lidded eyes so full of lust that you felt at once bashful again, and you shut your eyes once more.
His mouth parted from you in a wet pop so he could breathe a trail of hot open-mouth kisses over your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Against your bindings you lightly pulled, but found the thread was taut and strong and determined to keep you in place for his reverent mouth and hands.
“You’re everything to me—I can’t get enough,” he moaned against your flesh, teeth gently finding purchase amongst your supple skin. He bit down just enough to make you tense in his arms, crying out in a shocked moan, before he laved and licked over the area in soothing comfort.
“Look at how beautiful you are, pure perfect, I want to worship you.”
His words made you feel lightheaded. Still, still, no matter how many times he held you and made love to you, you felt so small beneath the amount of ardor he held. Sometimes you felt you might drown. Even if you begged, you knew he wouldn’t stop, not unless you truly wanted him to.
But you didn’t want him to ever stop—you wanted him to worship you right now. And coming to grips with that, of wanting him, was so terrifying an ordeal. So terrifying that you needed him to force you.
“Please, I can’t, no more,” you begged, again trying to draw your hands free.
“Too much?” he whispered against the crook of your neck, against the bite mark he’d made. “Tell me, pretty girl, do you want me to stop?”
He squeezed your breast firmly, hand trailing down over your stomach in a slow sensual path, coming to rest right atop your mound through the skirt you wore. Shivering underneath his touch, you didn’t answer, just trying to ride through the lust his touch so easily sparked within you. His other hand untangled from you to push your knees apart forcefully, a light hum sounding against your back as he dragged his hand along your thigh.
“We’ll stop, dear, as soon as you look in the mirror and tell me that you love yourself.”
“I can't—” and you couldn’t, couldn’t get through that barrier in yourself. The idea of loving what you saw was too foreign an idea.
“You can.”
Kissing up your neck, he wrenched your skirt up with one hand, then yanked your panties down with the other. When you flinched from the action, his hands encircled your knees, forcing them apart by lifting your legs over his. You were spread wide for him, and another wave of embarrassment rolled over you as he kept your legs trapped. You did not dare look at yourself, breath quickening as his hands ran lovingly up and down your legs.
“I know you can, love,” he whispered against you, breathless. “I’ll help you.”
“Please—Lucifer.”
His name was a breathless cry in your throat, hands strained against your bindings, and though you tried to close your legs, his hands were quick to keep you parted and in place, firmly on your knees as a silent command to be still.
“Open your eyes, dear,” he said lowly, a touch less gentle than before. So bashful you felt like you might cry, you obeyed. The eyes you found in the mirror held no room for mercy, that sweet charm and kindness now sharpened and honed. Holding your gaze, he drew your skirt further back, arranging it so your exposed cunt was open to the air. One hand went to still your reflexive flinch, gripping your waist with one hand whilst he trailed a hand down your thigh with the other, starting from your knee and teasing slow circles with his pitch black hands, absent their claws, in a lethargic path. Closer and closer, the anticipation had warmth coiling in you, had you growing wetter as he drew this out. Where your thigh met your hip, just an inch from your wet cunt, he massaged up and down in comforting motions.
“Beautiful girl, won’t you love yourself?” he whispered against your neck. Your hips rose in motion to his gentle hand, but still, you found his words impossible to obey.
“Can’t—” you forced out in a huff.
Humming in reply as though he expected the response, his teasing hand found the wet lips of your cunt, parting your soaked body with ease to slide along your inner labia, gathering slick with each sensual pass up and down your lips. His name left your mouth as a curse when his deft, nimble fingers pressed harder with each teasing draw, alighting pleasure with each stroke, coming to align the pad of his finger with your clenching and quivering entrance with each glide. Pressing but not entering, just barely teasing you, over and over.
When finally his finger barely dipped into your entrance, you tensed slightly, and his other hand came to wrap around your waist and hold you closer to him, hand rubbing comforting circles along your hip. Groaning against your cheek and licking along you, he gently rocked his finger back and forth, drawing lewd noises from your wet body as he angled deeper.
“There you go, sweetheart, let me worship you,” he murmured as he gently sunk deeper in appreciative strokes. You felt him as deep as his knuckle, slowly curling his finger against your walls and drawing desperate moans out before drawing back slowly just to sink in all over again. He whispered so sweetly to you, taking his time to merely work you open in slow, languid, motions, the pleasure cresting so painfully slow until it was overwhelming. You begged and moaned, head dropped back against his shoulder, but mercy was not something he was going to afford you. Easily, he added a second finger to massage and work open your wet, juicy walls, cunt so sensitive that you felt like you were aching from arousal. It was an admission of surrender to come simply from his nimble fingers, but it was an inevitable march that he took you towards, that you chased by bucking up into his touch.
“Please, please—oh, please!”
He brought you to that peak easily, never rushing or hastening his pistoning fingers, but you came hard regardless to the gentle strokes of his pistoning hand. Bucking, seizing, it felt like torture how he kept pumping into you as your orgasm was wrenched out of you, the thin bindings on your wrists keeping you from doing much more but writhing against him. Your legs shook with each aftershock that passed over you, his hands playing in your juicy release and teasing your sensitive cunt before he finally drew out. You missed the feeling at once.
“So good for me, lovely, sweet girl,” he panted against your shoulder, leaning up to nuzzle his cheek with yours. Limp and exhausted, you let your head fall into his touch as he kissed your cheek over and over.
“I don’t, don’t think I can…” as you trailed off, his voice reached your ear, the low rumble of his whisper chilling and sending goosebumps down your body.
“Oh, dear, you know we aren’t done yet.”
Hands drawing over your knees, he gently massaged your thighs.
“I told you how this ends, sweetheart,” he said, shifting a hand behind you. Following the rustling of clothing, you felt his heated member pressing against you, urgent in his arousal.
Reignited, you felt a strong spike of lust shoot south, legs quivering at the mere feeling of his hard length.
“I—L-Lucifer, ah!” you cried as he ground himself along your body. Hardly acknowledging your complaint, he braced both his hands under your thighs as leverage, shifting you up and holding you in his strong embrace until his cock was pressed against your slick folds. You couldn’t handle the sight of yourself, your cunt wet and flushed from him and sliding along his shaft while he let your body rest back against his chest, so you wrenched your gaze away.
“I want you to love yourself as much as I love you, so I’m going to fuck this lesson into you.”
Lucifer brought one hand up to your chin, firmly facing you towards the mirror.
“My pretty girl, just look at yourself and enjoy.”
He gently stroked your chin, coaxing you to open your eyes. Slowly you obeyed, his gaze scorching yours, entrancing glow in the low light of this room drawing out their beauty. He kept his hand on your chin to ensure you obeyed as he lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed up.
Wincing at the first stretch of his heated member around your hole, he shushed you in a comforting tone, the hand on your chin sliding down over your neck, your chest with an appreciative squeeze, before settling firmly over your hip to help guide you down onto his cock.
“Breathe, love, breathe,” he said gently, seating himself deeper and deeper. The stretch into your warm wet cavern was enough to knock the breath from you and, just as before, he took his time to slowly enter you, to ensure you savored the way your body molded around him. The hand on your hip ventured lower to gently rub soothing circles into your clit, achingly slow and applying pressure both to guide you and to drive you crazy. Still sensitive, still barely able to control yourself when his cock was in you, the pleasure his fingers brought forth with your body around him had your head thrown back in a silent cry. By the time you were fully seated onto him, stretched so wide that every clench could only hug and suck on his shaft, you were a quivering wet mess, soaked in sweat.
So full around him, your cunt a perfect fit for his length, you could barely breathe. Massaging up and down your clit, Lucifer whispered sweet comforting praises against your skin, other hand roaming along your body reverently—breasts, stomach, thighs.
“Relax, sweetheart, shh, there you go…”
His hands both left to travel along your arms, to your bound wrists. You let your head fall forward to watch him as the pressure there snapped, but his hands were firm on your wrists, drawing them to either side of your chest where that glowing gossamer appeared to bind you again.
When you were bound, hands pinned to your chest, arms wrapped tight, you found yourself in the mirror again, found you couldn’t look away from your dewy eyes, swollen wet cunt wrapped tight around him, nipples firm and breasts bobbing with each heave, and body covered in a sheen of sweat. Just the sight of yourself sent a chill all down your spine, pleasure making you clench around him and earning a pleased groan from Lucifer as he moved his hands to your knees.
“You look just perfect, love,” Lucifer whispered into your neck. “So perfect.”
You felt a new pressure around your waist and found that his tail had whipped out to wrap tight around your middle, his hands taking a firmer grip under your knees as he easily hefted your weight.
Gently, he eased your body up along his cock, your tight wet cunt trying so desperately to keep him trapped, before he let you sink back down maddeningly slow. The feel of his cock dragging back along your walls was so divine, nothing but a breathless whimper leaving your mouth.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he demanded, the low edge of his voice just barely sweet enough to coax out your obedience; you hadn’t even realized you’d closed them.
You tried desperately to keep eyes on yourself, to resist balking underneath his heated gaze, the sight of your body so eager to take him as he gently rocked you slowly up and down on his cock.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let go for me,” he groaned against you, panting and out of breath. Unlike before, he was not so content to keep his pace slow and leisurely. Each drop of your body down onto his cock was met with a hard thrust up into your wet and needy cunt, swollen head of his cock grinding deep within you before he pulled out to fuck up into you harder.
His eyes were entrancing, silent in their demand that you not look away, and with nothing on your mind but pleasure, but the sight of yourself coming so undone, you were eager to obey. You were so wet, the fluids coating his cock so copious that the sound of your sex echoed in the room in time to his deep, punishing thrusts.
“So beautiful—I love you so much,” he panted, hands moving from your knees to wrap around your waist. His tail wrapped around you tighter to bring you firmer into each thrust as he leaned forward, forcing you to take his bucking hips harder as he thrust up into you. Chin propped on your shoulder, he licked a line up your cheek, his sweat mixing with yours.
His words turned desperate the harder he fucked you, and you could hardly think through the pleasure that snapped into you with each meet of his hips against your plush bottom. “Mine, my lovely sweetheart, so beautiful, oh you drive me insane.”
His horns emerged, and in an instant you saw his eyes drown in red, golden irises scorching you in the mirror, his body on fire from the heat of his demonic form.
“Say it, sweetheart, let me hear you love yourself.”
Fucked so hard by him, he could ask you for anything right now and you’d be obedient putty in his hands. Around the moans and whimpers he forced out of you, you tried to form words.
“I-I’m—I’m beauti—ah—beautiful,” you managed, breathless. You felt a shudder wrack you head to toe, but it was true—wrapped around him, driven to this state by him, cherished in these arms you felt like the most important woman in the world.
“That’s my girl, oh love you feel so good.” His thrusts came harder, quicker, so good into your eager body that you felt like your mind was mush. Deep, hard pumps into your body that left you so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you could do was beg and plead for more as you once more ascended to that peak.
“Please, Lucifer, oh, please you feel so good—”
“Perfect, perfect.”
“Ah!”
Legs twisting against the sheets of the bed, your body arched against him, straining in your bindings as a strangled moan tore from your throat. Harder and harder he thrust into you until finally you crested that peak, orgasm wracking through your taut frame. You writhed and struggled in his arms, losing control as he held you tight and fucked into you harder and harder until you were nothing but a limp doll in his hold to fuck, spasming cunt sucking him in with each thrust as he chased his own pleasure.
Hips stilling, with a seething intake of air, he drew you as hard against his body as the world would allow, tail so tight around you, before he spilled his seed into your raw, wet cunt. The feel of his release filling you, so hot and warm that you felt scalded inside, had you jerking slightly as he pumped you with his hot spend, each rope of cum alighting a full sensation that made you feel so complete. His own moan breaking off into a strangled cry, he gave you a few light rocks into your body until, embracing you so tight that it almost hurt.
For a long while he held you firm in his arms, panting against your heated and sweaty skin with his head slightly bowed, you breathless as well. You tried to turn towards him as well as the angle would allow, seeking his lips but settling for kissing his burgundy horns. At the feel of your lips against them, he looked up to level you with demonic eyes so lost in their love for you that you felt like melting all over again.
“You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning back with you in his arms. The bindings on your arms disappeared, and he rubbed sweetly over the light markings against your arms they made through your blouse to soothe them as he brought you in for a kiss.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said gently as he pulled away from your lips.
“Thank you, Lucifer,” you said, voice just a bit raw. You trailed a hand down his cheek, thumb resting over the rosy circle, and kissed him again, soft and chaste.
Eventually you both needed water, to clean up, but for now you were happy to just kiss him again and again.